For years U.S. chemical journals have discussed the violent and
unpredictable explosive qualities of perchloric acid.* But 42-year-old
Robert O'Connor did not read chemical journals. As secretary and
manager of Los Angeles' O'Connor Electro-Plating Corp. he was chiefly
concerned with sales and new business. He was delighted when a dark,
bespectacled little man told him about a secret new electrolytic brew
compounded of perchloric acid.The little man's name was Magee—”Doctor” Robert Magee. He said he had a
degree from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He showed
O'Connor some samples of aluminum he had treated with his mysterious
liquid. O'Connor's eyes bugged. The samples gleamed like silver.
O'Connor's business had fallen off after V-J day. But if he could
produce a gleaming surface without the expense of buffing and
polishing, he could get more orders than he had handled during the war.
He hired Magee, enlisted a patent attorney, and prepared to get rich.Dr. Magee slopped about the plant with his deadly liquor as though it
were so much milk. Once, on an automobile trip, he asked O'Connor's
18-year-old son to hold a jug of it between his knees. O'Connor's
customers were delighted with the sample plating he produced; orders
flowed in and competitors began a wild but fruitless campaign to
discover Magee's secret. A few weeks ago O'Connor gleefully put it into
commercial production, a process which involved running an electric
current through a 300-gal. stainless steel vat full of the perilous
fluid.The Roof Rose. All went well until 9:45 one morning last week. Then the
mixture blew up like a bathtub full of nitroglycerin.The whole of Los Angeles' downtown area shuddered. A light plane flying
ten miles away was jolted by a sudden disturbance of the air. A
florist, five miles away, heard a dull boom and saw the petals of his
peach blossoms flutter to the floor. The 27-story tower of the
earthquake-proof city hall shivered; windows crashed and tinkled for
blocks around.The O'Connor plant, a low, white brick-fronted building, simply
disintegrated. Its roof rose into the air and flew apart, its framework
splintered, its walls bulged and burst in one enormous moment of
concussion and incandescence. The walls and roofs of nearby buildings
were smashed; automobiles caved in on the streets.Dazed, wild-eyed survivors, most of them dyed green by chemicals,
scuttled off down the littered streets. They were soon met by police
cars, fire trucks, ambulances and mobs of curious and frightened
people. Franciscan friars ran for the wreckage, robes held high, to
give the last sacrament. Firemen pried at timbers, pulled at protruding
arms and legs. Fifteen bodies were found. One of the victims, a
twelve-year-old Negro boy, had been killed by a section of iron pipe as
he rode his bicycle two blocks away.The Doctor Disappeared. Police officers and fire authorities,
interviewing O'Connor, were amazed and baffled by his description of
Magee's secret liquid. They began checking his background.
